Twenty-Ten

The year is finally winding down, and I feel like I am too. Slowly relaxing all the tense muscles and allowing myself a few moments to breathe and have a mug of hot cocoa. Just a few more days until I have to start writing 2010 in my journal, on my checks, and of course there will be a learning curve there. It'll probably take me a couple weeks before I don't have to scribble out 2009. I'm going to call this next year twenty-ten. None of this uppity two-thousand-ten business. It's just much easier to say all shortened like that. Sometimes I wonder though, if our society does too much shortening, reminiscent of the book "1984". No getting around that year. Nineteen Eighty Four, that's it. Can you imagine someone calling it the year One thousand Nine Hundred and Eighty Four? Talk about long winded!

Twenty ten is supposed to be two years to the destruction of the world, right? According to the Mayan calendar, that is. I, for one, do not believe it. It's much the same as the y2k scare. Everyone thought that all the computers were going to crash on new years day 2000 and that would be the end of the world. What a bunch of balogne! I remember listening to the radio as a 12 year old kid thinking "you've got to be kidding me, right?" What a bunch of scared sheep we become. The world will not end when scientists, or mayans predict, because that knowledge is known by God alone. And so I am positive that the end of the world will be at a time when no one is looking for it, no one will be able to predict when it will be. All the more reason to be prepared. There sure are signs out there that say the time is coming. So this coming year of twenty-ten I am going to try harder to prepare myself spiritually and temporally for when that day finally comes. I am going to resolve to be better.

Just Watch Me

I have this theory about watches. The last time I wore a watch was in eighth grade when I got one for Christmas or my birthday...can't remember which. It was all sorts of colors, just a fun watch for a teenager. And then I got to thinking about watches and what the purpose was for wearing them. The obvious conclusion was to keep time, and to know what time it is whenever you're curious, to know how much time you've spent waiting in line at the customer service desk at Walmart to return some Christmas lights you didn't use. And somebody one day thought it would be wise to keep a small clock on their person instead of relying on clock towers and the like. Thus the era of wearing watches had begun. Fashionable and useful. But as my youthful mind thought about that little mechanism on my wrist, the more I wanted to toss it aside. It was like the ticking of a time bomb, sitting there with its innocent face telling me how many seconds of my life I was wasting, how many minutes I had spent in class. It was in fact, not counting up, but counting down. I felt that attaching a time keeper to my person I was in essence attaching myself to time; that I now was a prisoner of time and that somehow I would age faster, that time would move at a faster rate if I had this way of keeping track of it. This wrist band, like a hand cuff that symbolizes slavery and submission would force me to reckon with time, instead of it reckoning with me. My free-willed mind wasn't going to have it. I took off the watch and didn't wear one again...until this Christmas. My mother-in-law gave me a beautiful watch and I am wearing it now, though for how long I cannot tell. I don't know if there are any studies about my theory (probably not since it's not very scientific). I do know that there is a study that is aiming to prove that our perception of time can influence our opinion of how good a time we're having. The old saying "time flies when you're having fun." (the study states that if you are led to believe time is flying, then you believe you had more fun) Anyway, to the point...I know it's probably just my opinion and a personal superstition I should get over, but it's these little quarks that make us who we are, right?

When Did I Become Such A Health Nut?

My mother has always been a health nut. She's told us kids stories about her years as a vegetarian. I remember as a young child feeling concern for my mom because she had so many pill bottles stashed away in some cabinet. I thought they were all dangerous diet pills. I later came to realize that they were supplements and vitamins and things of that sort. She is a massage therapist and has been trained in all kinds of natural healing arts. She took a class and became a certified nutritionist. One of my friends (Travis!) calls my mom a hippie. I am not in agreement...

Recently I have had an urge to better myself in the health area. It didn't all happen at once...it started with the desire to be better about eating sugar. So I decided to go on a forty day fast from the sweet stuff. This is excluding bread, but includes high fructose corn syrup and refined sugar and stuff like that. So I have one more week until that's over. Now I am beginning an exercise regimen that consists of me going jogging and stretching and doing some other exercises every morning.

K is now prodding for us to go on a blood type diet and be on an eating schedule so we don't over eat, or eat too late, or snack too much. I'm game for all of it. It's crazy because looking back a month ago I would not have thought it possible. But here I am taking echinacea every morning and night and trying to get to bed at a decent hour (which just means before 1 in the morning.) The sugar thing actually isn't that hard. Once you do it and realize that you can live without it, it gets easier. I sure miss the taste of some stuff. But now that I know that I can do without it I think I can eat it in moderation and not let it control me.

As for the blood type diet...oh boy. Well, I don't know if I can do it...we're talking about really being a health nut. I mean, I hate cottage cheese! And yogurt! Do you know how many people buy yogurt every day? It's insane. To me it tastes like liquefied chalk...but I digress. I'm going to try my very best to do it. Because really, I want to be healthier. I want to be able to run a mile or two and feel great afterward. I want to be able to still be active when I get into my later years. I want to live a fulfilling life in all aspects.

So here's some advice for all you people who want to stay just the way you are...Don't change. Not anything. Because once you make one little change, that will be the end of life as you know it. Once you make a change it shifts everything and more changes are sure to follow. But it's like they say...the only constant thing in life is change. So here's to changing...even in the middle of the year when resolutions made on the first are long forgotten or brushed aside. Because it is never too late to start. Throw out the resolution idea and just make a promise to yourself...to be a better you...the best you. It's hard to begin but it's always easier if you have someone to be accountable to. All my thanks go to K for being my support when that chocolate chip cookie from Albertson's was calling out to me. And for joining me in my betterment plan :)

Now get out from behind that computer desk and get some fresh air! Put down the bag of Doritos and go for a walk!

"Brittney-It's Your Day!"

This past friday I got a text from my sister informing me: "Today is your day at Flying Pie Pizza!" I was a little surprised because just a couple months ago it was my day, but I didn't get to go because I got too busy. Let me explain about this "Your Day" business. It's a promotion Flying Pie has that's really very cool. Every day they have something on their billboard outside their store (or on their website) that tells you whose day it is. It can be a name or an accomplishment like "ever solved a rubiks cube? Today is Your Day!" "ever been to Austria? Today is Your Day!" And what you get to do on your day is make a small pizza, however you want it, for free!

So I went in with K, and I asked him to take pictures. They make you wear an apron that says "it's my day" and you get to pick out of a variety of hats to wear. I think I picked the least goofy one they had. A kid named Aaron was my instructor. He was very cool. We talked while I was making the pizza and it was he who insisted I hadn't lived until I tried cream cheese on a pizza. (he was right by the way) Unfortunately I forgot that K hates cream cheese, so he didn't get to share in the joy that was my pizza.

It really did turn out incredibly. For the sauce I used a pesto (basil and garlic minced) with goat cheese. I added some spinach and then the cheese on top of that. He said they had gouda and I was like "hey! I gotta try the gouda." just because of the movie "She's the man" and for no other reason. Oh, my goodness. You really must try gouda. It is excellent. So along with the gouda went provolone and american because apparently gouda does not melt. I also added onions, green onions (or chives), zucchini, garlic chicken and cream cheese. You put the cream cheese on in dallops.

Let me tell you, that was heaven in a pizza! I enjoyed eating there also. The atmosphere was very friendly, as if everyone who was eating there came frequently and knew all the employees by name. K claimed it was a hippie joint but I don't mind, hippies are great people. :) Aaron informed me that there's a woman who is a die-hard consumer of flying pie. He said that the amount she spends at flying pie in a year pays for one person's salary for that whole year. During our visit though, I was frequently startled by a loud honking, produced when someone on their way out would squeeze the horn hanging from the ceiling. If any of you know me personally you can attest to my jumpiness...a symptom of having taken so much pleasure in scaring people myself...but that's a different story for some other time. Along with the honking, the employees would let out a joyous "Hey!"I was curious as to why the horn was being honked. I thought they might be getting tips or something. I read the sign that hung beside it as we walked out. Basically it said to honk the horn if you were going to walk out of Flying Pie and spread the word about the amazing pizza and overall friendliness you experienced there. So as we departed I also honked the horn.

As a final note, flying pie pizza makes a great breakfast :)

On Your Mark...

Now don't lie...I want the complete honest truth. I'm going to relate something to you and I'm pretty sure you have experienced it too. Everyone does, I think, without even noticing it. So here goes.

Say you're in line at the grocery store. After the cashier scans all your items and you pay, she sends them along the conveyor belt toward the bagging area. There are people behind you that are now getting their groceries scanned and sent down the other lane. As you bag your groceries you see in your peripheral the person who was behind you in line bagging their items (cuz nobody ever really looks at the person bagging across from them). Subconsciously you see the conveyor belts moving and items disappearing into bags at different rates and suddenly your brain kicks into competition mode. You start snatching things up and organizing them expertly into the plastic bags, all at a nice clip. You see in your peripheral that your competitor is lagging behind and you feel victorious as you bag the last item in your lane, set it in the cart and take off for the exit.

It's an odd sensation to experience because all the while you are doing it, you are thinking "it's not a race". But your instincts say it is, and they also say you've won, which is a bit of an incentive to have the same reaction next time. Winning feels good, after all, and if you're not good at soccer or track...at least you can taste a small, but sweet victory at the check-out counter.

Roses Are Red...

I work in a flower shop. I have had the same job there for over a year now delivering flowers. I like the freedom of this job title. I get to route out my deliveries and when I'm on the road I can listen to whatever I want. About six months ago I was given the opportunity to make my first arrangement and it came out beautifully. Ever since then my boss has been talking about training me to be a designer. Not much has happened since then...until last week. Last friday she had me build a heart wreath for a funeral. It was a long, arduous process. You wouldn't believe how complicated those are to make. Then Saturday as she was out shopping for a new delivery van, she put me in charge of the shop as designer! Woah! Grab hold of the reigns and hang on for dear life!!! The day wasn't incredibly busy but when you have to build the arrangements AND deliver them...that gets a little intense. A LOT INTENSE!!! During that day I made four arrangements and two corsages, delivered four, and picked up flowers from a greenhouse.

The hardest part of it all wasn't even that I've never made a corsage for an order before (I've made some just for fun with extra flowers lying around), or that we were supposed to close at 2, or that I had to go all the way to Horseshoe Bend for one order. The hardest part was trying to build a two dozen rose arrangement. I've made a dozen roses before and they are pretty easy...but when you've got 24 roses to place in a vase and none of them want to go where you want them to it gets tricky. You put another rose in and other roses shift, you try to fix the shifting and they all scrunch in, you spread them out and things fall over. I did the very best I could with no one there to supervise me but I have to admit I wanted to give up and wash my hands of the whole thing. I could have cried I was so frustrated!!! But I stuck with it, and got to a point eventually that I thought was decent enough. People who have never worked in the industry might be a little surprised to find out that designing flower arrangements is much easier said than done. Just because you are a creative person, or have taken art classes or know what colors go well together, does not mean you can jump right in and make something beautiful. Because I can do all those things...but floral design is a three-dimensional art and therefore 5 times as difficult, and you are working with a living medium which makes it 10 times more difficult. My boss says she can make 14 arrangements in an hour. That is fast. But she's been at it for over twenty years so I guess it comes with practice. She says, as an amateur I should be able to make 5 in an hour. I don't think I passed with flying colors this time...but maybe I'll get some practice in for making two dozen roses look like a piece of art and do better next time.

Getting Out of Town

Part of K's Valentine's gift to me was a trip up to McCall with him and his best friend and his best friend's wife and son. The major attraction being the Winter Carnival

We got around to seeing almost all the sculptures. Some were better than others but the ones that won prizes were most definitely deserving of the honor. I was a little awestruck at the attention to detail and the ambition of some of the artists. The fish to the left had hundreds of scales individually carved. The process must have been time-consuming indeed.
This year I noticed a technique they use for some of the more complicated sculptures, like the one that won the grand prize. They use chicken wire to hold the snow and more importantly to keep the sculpture from falling down in fragile places. If you notice the neck of the dragon on the right you will see it was starting to break. This is where you could see the use of the wire showing through the snow. It was a pretty incredible piece of work. This grand prize piece was complete with dragon, knight, king and queen on thrones, a moat, a castle and a little man's head peeping out of a dungeon. It was so intricate and beautiful. I can appreciate all the artistic ability and hard work it took to make something so impressive.

Also experienced on our trip was my first time on a snowmobile. First it was just K and me on a four wheeler but his best friend had rented a snowmobile and let us hop on and try it out near the end of their allotted time. It was great fun! I think we got up to 70 mph. And going up an embankment we did tip it once. Ha ha! That was fun!

All the Trimmings

So I was feeling kinda antsy about getting a new do; it was getting to be that time. I try to get a haircut every 6 months or so, but this time I wanted to try something a little different. Which is a big deal since me and drastic changes don't have a great history of meshing well. Mostly I just wanted to try bangs again. I haven't had them since I can't even remember when. Very young. Anyway, my sister had just cut hers and they looked cute so I thought I might take a chance. So one day after work I walked down the strip mall just a couple doors to the salon where I got my last haircut and waited for Ginger.

Ginger is a forty something single mom. Her short, bleach blonde hair hints at her attitude: spunky and determined. She was walking around in a leg brace and was candid about her circumstances when I asked her what had happened. She had been hit by a car around Christmas and had broken her femur and a couple other bones I can't recall. And even though it had been 7 months since my last time in to see her, she remembered some of the things I had told her about myself. This is the kind of relationship you develop with a hair dresser, I realized. It's nothing too overbearing, just a couple of people nonchalantly talking about their lives to pass the time. I have never had a hair dresser before but now I understand why people would invite them to weddings and put them on their mailing list for annual Christmas cards. She is pleasant and laid back; the kind of person you'd trust with something as important as your hair even if they were having a bad day.

I didn't want them as short as she made them. As she put the scissors to my locks and took the first snip my heart jumped with fear. Did she really just take off that much?!! I took a few deep breaths though, and decided I could live with it...until I could grow them out again. But as she finished up and started drying and styling my hair, the bangs were growing on me more and more. I smiled at my reflection in the full length mirror thinking that the biggest test would be if my boyfriend like them too. He absolutely loves them, so I think they might stick around for a while.

Octuplets

Recently the media has been covering (with a great deal of excitement) the successful birth of octuplets; only the second set ever to have been delivered in the U.S. But today I heard that the mother of the eight new borns already had six children under the age of eight. That makes fourteen children she is now responsible for. I was amazed and then quickly angered as I learned that she is a single mother who sought out this pregnancy through in vitro fertilization. To be clear...this is a procedure that involves removing egg cells from a woman's body and fertilizing them with sperm before returning them to the woman's uterus.

I find it unbelievable that this woman: a ms. Nadya Suleman, would choose to impregnate herself with eight eggs, ready to go, when she was already struggling to support the six children she already had. She was already receiving welfare to care for her children!

Who, in their right mind would make a choice like that? And who in their right mind would allow it?

I don't believe she is in her right mind. In an interview her mother was quoted to have said that Nadya was obsessed with having babies. This had me fuming. An obsession gives a person no right to subject their offspring to a life without a father, a life that will most likely be filled with all kinds of medical problems. Then one might say that she has every right to have however many children she desires...this is America after all. But when that right is abused by endangering the lives of the children she is creating, it goes too far. When she had already been blessed with six children she should have been focused on loving and caring for those six instead of creating more of a burden for the tax payers of California. I'm not saying people shouldn't have large families, I come from a family of eight myself, and my aunt had 13 children: all naturally born. So you love kids, fine, have kids. But when it becomes more about self gratification than having a functional, loving family, you have a problem. My point is that this woman had a choice...and she chose to endanger the lives of the very children she sought to make her own. It is a miracle that all eight were delivered successfully and that they are all still alive.

And where were the doctors in all of this? In vitro is supposed to come after psychological testing and interviews to find out why you want a baby at this time in your life and what it means to you, etc. And even if she passed those tests with flying colors, a woman of her age is never injected with more than two embryos at a time. Something is definitely wrong here and should be looked at. Somebody screwed up; whether it was the in vitro doctors or ms. Suleman I don't know. I do know that America will never tell a person how many children they can or cannot have. And I think that is only right. But somewhere along the line, someone has to take responsibility for their choices. And this woman is not going to learn anything when she's got the media clamoring for her time, and people waving money in her face to buy her story. A person should never be rewarded for pulling a stunt like this...that is sickening.

Fool-proof Hiccup Cure

The hiccups. probably the most frustrating, ridiculous ailment to ever plague mankind. While watching So You Think You Can Dance one season, there was a guy who tried out that had had the hiccups his whole life. Can you imagine that? He was a happy guy too. It was funny to watch him hiccup more often as he got more excited. I personally don't think I could handle such a persistent condition; I can't handle them for five minutes, forget about forever. Sheesh! I wonder if this is an actual disease. What would it be called? Just "Hiccup syndrome" or "Hiccupitis" or maybe something completely unrecognizable as anything to do with hiccups. You never know with those doctors. How they decide to name anything what they do. At least they got the fear of long words right. "Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia."

The point is, many people struggle finding a way to cure hiccups. I have heard of countless ways over the years, as I'm sure many of you have:

getting someone to scare you (has never worked for me personally...is more a way to get me to pee my pants)
drinking water through a paper towel (very uncomfortable)
holding your nose while you drink water
distracting yourself
kissing someone (never tried it so not sure if it works)
drinking water upside down (extremely difficult and messy)
the way I used to do it that was pretty reliable: release all your breath and then hold your breath as you drink water until you feel like your lungs will burst, then you swallow your last swallow and breathe. This was very effective for me but I have recently been introduced to a much easier way to get the job done.

This method requires the help of a buddy, or if you don't have anyone around that can help you, use a plastic or styrofoam cup. The trick is to raise both your arms while someone holds the cup up to your mouth and you drink. I have tried it a couple times and so far it has been very successful. Goodluck all you hiccupers out there!